


Waiting

by Rochelle_Templer



Series: Inktober For Writers 2017 [13]
Category: Diagnosis Murder
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Introspection, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: For Mark, sometimes waiting was one of the most difficult things to do....





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Inktober for Writers project. The prompt for this fic was "foolish".

‘Foolish’ was a word that Mark Sloan had heard many times in his life. Often, in reference to himself.

It was a word that was frequently brought up when people mentioned his quirks, his eccentricities as they called them. Granted, most doctors did not do their rounds on roller skates or motor scooters, and they didn’t deliver their lectures in rap. Then again, Mark never saw the point in sticking to staid routines simply because others before him had done so.

Sometimes, ‘foolish’ was just another way for people to tell him that they thought he was soft-hearted. That he took on too many charity cases at the hospital. Or that he was too generous with the people who knew him and complete strangers he encountered. The hospital budgets had to be considered. People could take advantage of him. Mark had heard these reasons and more numerous times over the years.

Not that any of those admonishments or words of caution deterred him at all. The way he saw it, if everyone walked around with a closed fist, no one would be ready with a helping hand. If that meant that, sometimes, there would be no reward or gratitude for trying to help someone, so be it. It still could not erase all the good that could be sown.

However, while he could normally dismiss most of the times that people referred to him as foolish, he couldn’t think of another word to describe himself at that particular moment.

It started two weeks ago with the murder of a small-time drug dealer that Steve had been assigned to investigate. The leads Steve had gotten tied in with an operation the vice squad had been working on for almost a year. Seeing their first real opportunity to nail the entire organization, Steve and Cheryl were put on the team that was getting ready to intercept a large shipment of cocaine.

This meant that, for the past week, Steve had been part of a surveillance team at the docks. During that time, he hadn’t been home and there had only been a couple of phone calls to let Mark know that he was ok. Up until today, the work had mostly been slow and tedious. At least, that’s what Steve mentioned both times when he had talked to him.

Tonight, however, was the night the shipment was supposed to come in.

Mark paced around his front room. He had stayed at the hospital for two hours after his shift had ended just so he could keep his mind away from worries about Steve. When he got home, he tried reading, watching an old movie and even playing some music, but nothing had held his attention for long. Eventually, his thoughts always drifted back to his son.

 _‘Steve will be fine. I’m worrying over nothing,’_ he told himself. _‘This isn’t the first time he’s been involved in a drug bust. And Cheryl is there and a whole bunch of fine cops, I’m sure.’_

Still, as rational as his arguments sounded in his brain, Mark couldn’t deny the lingering doubts at the back of his mind. That dealer who had been killed had been shot in broad daylight which implied that these criminals thought that they were untouchable. Or that they had nothing to lose. And either one of those things could mean that they wouldn’t think twice about shooting a police officer. A police officer like Steve, for example….

Mark chewed the edges of his fingers, a bad habit that he couldn’t help when he was feeling especially antsy. He hoped that Steve would be able to call once it was over. Just a quick heads up so he’d know that his son was ok. At the same time, Mark dreaded hearing the phone ring. A phone call from the police could mean that something terrible…or even the unthinkable…had happened.

The phone rang, sending a jolt down Mark’s spine. He sprinted over to pick it up.

“Mark Sloan.”

“Dad?”

Mark let out a huge sigh of relief. “Steve? What happened? Is it over? Did you get them?”

“Yeah, we got them,” Steve said with a sneeze. “With the drugs and with plenty of evidence for the murder.”

Mark had started to smile when Steve sneezed again, causing a frown to appear instead. “Steve, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve replied. “One of them pushed me into the water while trying to escape. And that water was freezing, Dad.” He sneezed again. “Look, I gotta go. I need to fill out my initial report, but I’ll leave the rest for tomorrow. I should be home in about an hour.”

“All right,” Mark said. “I’ll have some chicken soup and warm blankets waiting for you here.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said. “Thanks Dad. Bye.”

“Goodbye son,” Mark said. He hung up the phone and started to whistle a tune while walking to the kitchen.


End file.
